Tobias POV
It's been a month since Tris was in the hospital and a month since we lost our child. Though it still stings, we're getting through it. Tris has lighten up more over time and for that I'm happy. Luca still lights up our life and I have to say that I am so thankful that we took him into our home.
"Tobias!" I hear Tris's voice call for me. "What?" I call back. It's about 2 in afternoon, on a Saturday. So we're all home, not doing much. She walks into bedroom where I currently am, and stands in the doorway. She has the phone in her hand, and she's covering that part that you talk into. So I'm assuming she hasn't hung up yet.
"The call was um for you." She says and there's an uncertainty to her voice. "Who was it." I ask, my attention now fully focused on her and her answer.
"Marcus." She says and when that name enters my ears, everything stops.
Why would he call? He left my life, well I did, but he was out of it.
He didn't care to contact me or even show up when mom died.
"What did he uh-" I clear my throat. "What did he want?" I ask. She looks down at her feet then back up at me.
"He wants to talk to you." She says. "In person." She adds softly knowing that that part will be my breaking point.
"Did he say what about?" I ask her. "No. Sorry, he didn't." Tris says.
"Where?" I ask, but already holding a guess in my mind.
"His house." My childhood house.
"Okay." I say with a sigh, sitting up straighter.
She puts the phone back up to her ear, "Hello?" She says.
"Yes. Mhm. Yea, okay bye." She says and walks off to put the phone away.
I lean forwards and rest my face in the palms of my hands. What did I just agree to??
****
I was debating bringing Tris with me or not, but decided that it would be better for all of us if she stayed home with Luca. I'm walking through the abnegation section, the gray colors and dusty gravel below me bringing back memories.
I walk up to the house I was brought up in, even though I was torn down in this house to be more correct. I open the door and step in. The first sight bringing back the memories and pain.
"Son?" I hear Marcus's voice and I try not to let him phase me. He walks further down the stairs till he gets to the bottom, just feet away from me. "It's good to see you Tobias." I scoff, and cringe as he says my name.
"Why am I here?" I ask, my voice sounding dead. "I wanted to speak to you." He says and oddly his voice seems calm.
"Well I know that, what about though?" I ask. Growing up I would never ever speak with this kind of attitude, because I knew it would result in a beating. 'To teach me'
"It regards your mother." He says and I cross my arms.
"Why would you want to talk about her?" I ask.
"Because I heard she passed." He says, his voice holding a hint of pain. Which I can't believe I deciphered.
"She did. Did you even know that she was sick?" I ask him, knowing that he didn't.
"No, Unfortunately I did not." He replies. He walks into the sitting area, I don't follow though. I can still see him and speak to him from the doorway. He sits down in the chair I saw him sit in all my life, him facing me.
"Would you have even cared if you had known?" I question him. "Tobias-"
"You can call me four." I correct him. I know he doesn't want to say that name, but eventually gives in.
"Four, she was my wife. Of course I-" "You what? Beat her?!? Abused her??! You used her!" I yell at him.
"Tobias-" "Don't you call me that!" I scream, not wanting my name falling from his mouth.
"Four." He says with a scowl. "I loved her in ways you didn't know about." He tells me. "Bullsh*t!" I yell pissed off by his excuses.
"You never loved her. If you did, you never would have treated her the way you did." I say, and he knows that what I said is the truth.
"If you loved her, you would've showed up at her funeral." I say and that hits him hard.
He wasn't there that dark gloomy day, I remember how the weather matched the feel of that day. After the funeral that day, I sat on the bed staring at the blue glass sculpture that I held in my hand. The last piece I had left of her.
I feel a tear fall from my eyes thinking about it, and quickly wipe it away. "You have nothing to say." I tell him. "You have no more excuses to give, no more threats to shout." I say to him.
"You have nothing." I tell Marcus. I take one good look at him and this house, then leave slamming the door on my way out.
I'm never returning to this house, never am I coming back to him. The physical scars were horrible and the traces of them are still on me.
But the emotional scars he left me, those are permanent and hurt worse. They never leave me, no matter how hard I try. The memories that are scared into my mind will never fade. The damage inside of me, will never be fixed.
A father is supposed to support and build up their child. Not tear them apart and beat them up.
A father is supposed to give love and care to their child. Not hate and harm.
A father is supposed to give them hope for the future. Not fear for the future.
I was robbed of that.